


timmy has a cold

by thestarsaregivenonceonly



Category: Timothée Chalamet - Fandom
Genre: F/M, timothee blurb, timothee chalamet blurb, timothee chalamet imagine, timothee imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-27 12:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21118856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsaregivenonceonly/pseuds/thestarsaregivenonceonly
Summary: Anonymous asked:Can I request something dear? How about a nice fluffy imagine where Timothee has nasty cold but still wants to go out to the filming set (you know how our boy is 😥) and the reader tries to convince him not to go. Also thank you for all your contributions to the community! ❤





	1. sick timmy

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr same username xx

“I think I’ll be fine,” he insisted, running both hands back through his hair. The anxiety was leaking from every pore, and his body shook with fever. He was beyond ridiculous, it was actually outstanding. 

“I strongly disagree, but I will not tell you what to do. You’re an adult.” He would never go unless you were okay with it, and the both of you knew that.

“You are the most stubborn person that I’ve ever fucking met,” he complained, coughing loudly into a crumpled tissue and digging through the mess on the table for another cough drop out of a nearly empty bag. 

“I’m the most stubborn person? Listen, you’re the one hacking up both lungs and wanting to go run around a film set for a thirteen hour shoot.” You stood to fetch him another bag of drops, smiling, for he took your hand to kiss the back of it as you passed. Such a darling.

“It would make me feel better.”

“Better than I’m making you feel?” You challenged, setting the bag onto the table and handing him fresh tissues. He snatched them quickly, coughing into them so hard he heaved for a moment after. You wiggled closer, holding his wrist and watching him with concern. 

“No,” he gasped after a moment, shaking his head. “No, you top everything.”

“Even you.” 

He laughed loudly, a laugh that turned into another coughing fit, and you winced without realizing it. Water, cold and refreshing, he drank it gratefully, leaning back against your pillow. He refused to sleep with his own pillows anymore, claiming to love the smell of yours. 

I can sleep with you always, in a way, he’d said.

“Even me. Now, can you tell me about this show you won’t shut up about? I need to keep my mind busy if you won’t let me look at the script.”

You gasped, putting both hands on his cheeks. “You’re going to watch it with me? Fuck the script for a day or two and get healthy, Timothée.” Saying it properly in French was the only way to get his attention completely.

He hiccuped, smiling and blinking back runny eyes, a small sniffle. “I’d love to watch it with you, babe. Everyone has been yelling at me to do so for years, and I’ve never had time. Let’s do it.”

You changed into a pair of his sweatpants, rolling the cuffs up comfortably and tucking them into a long pair of socks Timmy style. A flannel button down of his, green and black, you were cozier than ever before. His face lit up like a Christmas light when you came back into the room sporting his wardrobe. You picked up the remote and launched Netflix, wiggling your butt when his hands found your hips. He groaned nasally, and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from laughing. 

“Stop wearing my clothes and shaking your ass when I can’t make love with you.”

“Normally I’d say fuck it and fuck me, but if you sneezed on me, I think I’d cry.”

His face flushed. “Good to know.”

“Do you want popcorn? A snack of any sort, for that matter?” 

“No, ma’am. Sit with me, I’ll cough and sneeze the other way.” You allowed him to pull you into his lap, accepting the fact that if you were going to get sick it was going to happen regardless of where you physically sat. Your hand found the back of his head, scratching it lightly and flicking through the Netflix options until you found what you wanted. 

“Everyone keeps saying that kid needs to play younger me in a movie, is it just the hair?”

“Finn Wolfhard? Mostly the hair, but I could see it either way.” 

“I saw him in that horror movie, he’s talented.” 

You pressed play and wiggled into Timmy’s body, accepting a small kiss on the forehead without complaint. He was a personal heater, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to snuggle this close for long without becoming uncomfortable. 

“They’re playing Dungeons and Dragons?” He announced loudly, clearly amused. “I’ve never done that before.”

“I tried a few times, I wasn’t great at it.”

“That’s hot.” 

“You’re one to call things hot right about now my little campfire. What’s hot?” You sat up to look at him, grabbing a tissue before he could cough into his hand by accident. A few moments and a sip of water later, he cleared his throat. 

“You playing that game, fighting dragons and monsters and shit. I can see that.” 

“Maybe I’ll play dress-up for you sometime.”

“Don’t tease me.” 

You giggled, kissing his cheek a few times and wrapping both arms around his neck. For some reason, it really didn’t bother you that he was so sick. To be with him, to want to be this close all the time came with the possibility. It really didn’t matter. Unless he had a stomach flu. That was a solo act. 

Tim had a somewhat charming tendency to ask a lot of questions, talk and comment, occasionally even interrupting you while you were answering an inquiry. You were long used to it and found it cute more than anything, because he had explained once, months ago, that you still made him feel like a teenager with a crush… so he tended to babble sometimes, and he often realized it was happening after a short time with a beet red face and a stuttering apology. 

“I don’t mean to keep interrupting, I’m kind of loving being domestic with you like this, though.” 

“Oh, I love it too, baby. Don’t be worry, I think I’d hate watching something in silence with you at this point. It would feel wrong.” You squeezed him gently, nuzzling your head into his neck the way he often did with you. “You’re not bothering me.” You sat up and held a finger up. “Unless it’s Harry Potter. Then you know to shut up or I’ll smack you with a pillow… possibly spank you.” 

“Why are you trying to talk me into talking during Harry Potter?” He was so serious, and your laughter echoed loudly throughout the apartment. 

“I’m being serious, Timmy! HP is sacred!” 

“I know, I know, can you spank me anyways?” 

“Maybe when you’re better.” 

The first few episodes were the same, Tim constantly asking questions with small bouts of silence in which he seemed to be absorbing the show with immense intensity. It was so nice to see him relaxed and letting himself drown in it. You rose after a time to make him a cup of tea with honey and lemon, tugging back on your arm when he refused to let you go. A kiss to his nose, he scrunched it and kissed your chin lightly. No kisses on the mouth until his fever was gone, that was his rule. Stubborn as a mule. Not terrible though... that first kiss afterward was always fucking amazing.

You stirred the concoction slowly, looking out the window of his small apartment at the only sight visible, the brick wall of the building next to you. It was him that you saw though, his laughing face, his messy hair, his green meadows for eyes. You had a sudden vision in your mind of yourself spinning on the top of a green hill Sound-of-Music style and burst out laughing, leaning over the counter and almost spilling the tea. The television went silent. 

“Tell me the joke, beautiful!” 

“No, it’s stupid.” 

“No it’s not, come back here.” He reached over the back of the couch for you, wiggling his long fingers. You picked up his tea and marched back over, handing it to him to watch him immediately set it on the table to pull you back into his lap. 

“Baby, no offense, but you’re hotter than the sun right now, and I’m roasting.” To prove your point, you tugged the flannel off and, not wearing a bra, tossed it over the back of the couch and leaned against the back cushion. He swallowed hard, rolling his neck. 

“Not an issue, tell me the joke!”

“It’s not a joke, I just had a stupid image pop into my head.” 

“I wanna see the stupid image,” he insisted, turning and lying with his head in your lap. You ran your fingers automatically through his hair without thinking, exhaling loudly. 

“Fine. I was thinking about how I love your eyes, how they remind me of green meadows.” He beamed, biting his bottom lip. “And then I was imagining myself, totally unprovoked, mind you, just like spinning on the top of a green hill like Maria Von Trapp.” 

He was laughing hysterically before you had finished describing the image, rolling onto his side and almost falling face first onto the floor. “Dancing in my eyes?” 

“Maybe.”

“Fuck, I love that.” His laughter turned into coughs again, and he sat up to chug down more water. “Should we keep going, sweetheart?” 

“Let’s do it.”


	2. caught the cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:
> 
> ok part 2 of cute sick timmy blurb plz!!!!! i was so sad when it ended :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr same username xx

“I can’t believe you got me fucking sick.”

“You really can’t believe that happened?” Timmy’s tone was entirely sarcastic. He glanced over at you from where he stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of chicken noodle soup. He was wearing a ratty t-shirt and black sweatpants, barefoot and bedhead after a long nap you had taken together. “You really can’t? You’re with me almost every second of the day, baby girl.”

“I was hoping it wouldn’t happen,” you coughed, hunching over and wincing into a tissue. Your throat hurt so badly, it was horrible to use your voice at all. Your chest felt stuffed and congested, a deep throb echoing from the base of your head to your temples. A shiver then, more coughing, you picked up a thermometer and stuck it under your tongue. Still a fever, though it was lower than before.

“Well I have a feeling it was the night before I showed symptoms, because apparently you’re more contagious before you actually get sick.”

You pursed your lips and nodded to yourself, sure he was right. There had been an intense makeout session that night in bed before you slept, though it didn’t turn into much of anything. You had both been far too tired, which was saying a lot. Since then he had gotten sick and now you, and it had been almost a week since you had really kissed or touched one another. You tried to be thankful for what you had, but it was becoming difficult to keep your hands to yourself.

Don’t think about it.

“Do you wanna play a board game or something while we eat, baby?”

“A board game?”

He turned to face you, raising his eyebrows. “Have an issue with board games?”

“No, I just wasn’t expecting the suggestion. I didn’t know there were any here.”

“Scrabble and Monopoly.”

“Oh, let’s play both.”

“Wanna make a bet out of it?”

You stood, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and shuffled with slippered feet to stand behind him, wrapping both arms around his waist. “What kind of bet?”

“A sexual bet.”

You laughed, leaning your forehead on his back. “I don’t wanna think about sex when I can’t have it yet.”

He switched the stove off and turned to face you, putting both hands on your cheeks. “That’s fair, but I think this makes it fun.”

“So if you win you want a blowjob, or what? Is that supposed to be a punishment for me?”

He giggled. “No, but I do want that.”

“If I win you have to eat me out for a really long time.”

“Is that supposed to be a punishment for me?” He repeated your words, eyes dark and daring.

“Maybe you should let me win, then.” A dazzling smile, you batted your eyelashes.

“Nope, eat your soup.” Timmy took a bowl from the cupboard and spooned hot soup out for you. You grabbed a spoon and moved slowly to what you considered his dining room table, avoiding stepping on your blanket. “Be careful, mon amour. It’s hot.”

“Mercí.”

He dug the games from a faraway closet and set them both on the table, grabbing his own blanket to wrap himself in and opening Monopoly.

“You sure you want to take me on in Monopoly?” You blew on a spoonful of soup, watching him.

“I’m sure.”

“Give me the dog.”

“What if I want the dog?”

“Then you should have said something first.” You took the dog and stuck your tongue out at him, placing it on Go. He set the ratty shoe next to you. “Why the shoe?”

“The better to kick your ass with, my dear.” He smirked.

“Oh, it’s on.”

“Who goes first?” He shook the dice in his hand.

“We roll to see who does. Highest number.” You rolled a two. He rolled a four. “Fine. Go.”

He giggled again and rolled, moving his shoe along. Upon landing on a spot, he pursed his lips and read it.

“You can’t buy anything until you go around once!” You squeaked.

“Since when?” He laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t make up rules.”

“I’m not! I’ve always played that way.”

“I know I’ve heard that before, I’m just kidding. It’s your turn.” He handed you the dice, wiggling his eyebrows.

You took turns rolling until the both of you had made it all the way around the board. His face became pouty when you rolled two twelves in a row, moving at a faster pace and getting around before him. You collected your money from Go, and then he real shit began. Buying properties. He made it all the way around and immediately landed on your first one, already owing you rent. You coughed loudly.

“Hand it over, buster.” You beckoned with your hand, smiling at him and sniffling. He rolled his eyes and handed you the money, sliding the dice your way. Trying to hide a smile and failing, he bit down on his lip.

“This is only the beginning, mon amour.”

“Wait,” you said, putting the dice down. “Serious question. Can we trade sexual favors for properties?” He laughed long and hard, leaning his head back and shaking the whole table. “Why are you laughing at me? This is a serious question!”

“I think as long as we don’t go overboard we can do that…”

“Timmy, what is overboard?”

“We’ll figure it out as we go along?”

“Good idea.”

You continued playing, taking turns buying and paying one another rent. When he eventually made it around the board and landed gracefully on Boardwalk, you cried out shrilly.

“TIMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYY, NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” You had to cough halfway through.

“Timmmmmyyyyyy, yes!” He said victoriously, putting both hands in the air and then dabbing. “Wanna buy it off of me?”

“I will give you a blowjob right now if you give me that.” You already owned Park Place.

“I’m not accepting sexual favors for good properties, only cheap ones.”

“Are you calling my sexual favors cheap?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “No, I just really want this one. It’ll make it interesting. I love you very much, and I’ll take care of you when you’re sick… but I’m not letting you win Monopoly.”

Pouting, you moved around the board again, picking up a card and landing yourself in jail. You sighed and placed your person there, watching him move and buy another property. He turned the shoe to face the jail, waving in your face.

“Hello from outside jail.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You dished out money to get out, making a face at him. He chuckled. “The soup was delicious, by the way, baby. Thank you.” You coughed, moving to get a cough drop. He stopped you, watching you intently.

“What do you need, beautiful?”

“A cough drop.” Your voice was raspy, and it hurt even more to talk since you had started playing.

Timothée stood and moved to grab the bag from the table near the couch, handing it to you and sitting back down.

“Thank you.”

“I like taking care of you, mon amour. I hate that you’re sick, but it gives me an excuse to spoil you.”

“Like you don’t do that every other day?” He really did, and you loved it. He was so good to you.

“Fair point. It’s your turn.”


End file.
